


Seaside Coffee

by Ithika



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Gen, I don't know what I'm doing, Modern AU, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 11:13:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13523058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ithika/pseuds/Ithika
Summary: Charles Vane is barista in his early 20s trying to find his feet. Abigail Ashe is a successful lawyer in her 40s who also happens to enjoy a good mug of cappuccino.





	Seaside Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> I sat down to write fluff and humour and came up with this. It is unlikely to get any more, but I might try to write the comic surly pirate in a coffee shop AU I originally planned.

The day had been going so well. 

 

Charles glances at the clock - Quarter to nine. He'd barely been here two hours, and already he's looking wistfully out over the carpark, past the dunes he knows lead to the sea. The woman on the other side of the counter is talking again, and he shifts his glance back as he shakes chocolate over the top of her cappuccino. She was a regular; his favourite, in fact. An older customer, Abigail always showed up early and spoke her mind. It was just her truth this morning wasn't what he'd wanted to hear.

 

“You look like you've been sleeping under a bridge.” Her voice isn't unkind as she takes her coffee - served in a plastic reusable cup she never failed to remember - and Charles forces himself to respond.

 

He shrugs. “Nah, just up early with the boat. She's nearly fixed.” 

 

Abigail purses her lips like she doesn't believe him as she takes her first sip. “Mm hmm. You have running water on that thing?” 

 

Caught. He wasn't sure how she'd managed to get so astute; he supposed it was working with the law like she did. He shrugs again, less this time, his jaw setting. “Got the sea.”

 

This time, Abigail only nods. “You know, that offer still stands. I could use someone to help with my filing, copying documents, running errands for me. You'd like it better than brewing coffee.” 

 

If it were anyone else, he'd sneer and tell her to fuck off, customer or not. As it is he clenches his teeth, grinding then together as he looks out toward the sea again. When he speaks, his voice is tight. “Can't. Got--”

 

“The fishing charter you want to open, I know.” There's no judgment in her voice, but somehow Charles feels like she knows. Knows that when she'd given him her card the first time, some six months ago now, he'd sat in his berth for hours. Glaring at the letter of offer she'd printed for him, _demanding_ that the words make themselves clearer. _Mr_ _Charles Vane_ , it began. That was easy, and the date and all the numbers were fine as well. But his head started swimming when he'd tried to mouth out the rest of the letter. At first because he couldn't make sense of them, and later, to his horror, because of his shame at being unable to read well enough to make sense of the stupid thing.

 

She's waiting for an answer, and he nods, wiping the counter clear of dust that isn't there. “Yeah.” 

 

She seems to consider something then think better of it, drumming her fingers against the counter. “As I said,” her words are clear and deliberate, though the young barista has already turned his back to her, “the offer is open, with the skills you have  _ now.” _

 

He doesn't turn back to the counter until long after he's heard her leave.


End file.
